


Beelcake & Shortcake

by simeonsaysobeyme



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Cuddling, Cute, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hot Tub, Other, POV Second Person, Sick Character, Sickfic, Size Difference, Sledding, Sweet Beel being a sweet baby, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simeonsaysobeyme/pseuds/simeonsaysobeyme
Summary: You and the brothers take a trip up to a ski resort where you can go sledding and skiing with the brothers. After some fun with Beel, he ends up catching a cold and of COURSE you're the one to comfort him.Written for foreverinvideos/Micky for the Obey Me Secret Santa 2020. I hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Beelzebub/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Kudos: 57





	Beelcake & Shortcake

It turned out the brothers weren’t exactly familiar with the human concept of “winter holiday” so when it started to snow and you asked about skiing, snowtubing, and such in the Devildom they all conspired and immediately went to Lord Diavolo to see what he could do. Turned out, he could do quite a bit.

So that was how you found yourself in whatever the demon version of Aspen, Colorado was at a gorgeous resort. 

“Where did this mountain come from?” you ask Satan. You hadn’t really seen any snow-capped ones when you arrived. 

“Oh, this is where Lord Diavolo stores a few human souls, it was easy enough to fashion it into one of those mountains you have in colder regions of the human realm.”

That was the last time you asked about geography.

The resort was absolutely gorgeous - it had a cabin-like feel and was large enough, with rooms for all of you guys. Of  _ course _ the brothers were fighting over who got to stay with you, which was immediately solved when Lucifer said you had your own room by yourself. You felt dejected, especially when you looked over and saw Beel pouting. It was too much to take.

You walk over to Beel and look up at him, giving a small sheepish smile. He was so tall and so broad it was hard to comprehend sometimes. Just massive. Absolute unit. But then he smiles down at you with rosey cheeks and all that intimidation flies completely out the window. As long as he didn’t squat down to speak with you. 

“Are you disappointed?” you ask, feeling a bit sheepish.

“No it’s okay,” he says. And you really believe it. He’s never been anything but honest to you. “Do you want to go sledding with me?” he asks, his face brightening up. “I think we can both fit. We just uh–” He looks down at the floor, his violet eyes bright. “Might need to get kind of close to each other.” 

“Okay,” you agree. 

“Awww no fair!” You hear Mammon’s voice. “I wanted to go tubing with ‘em!”

“You can wait,” Satan says with a roll of his eyes. 

You bundle up against the snow and head out to the pristine hills of the Devildom’s newest vacation. There were demons enjoying it, looking like advertisements straight out of a Majolish catalogue. Your own threads were… well, adequate. But it didn’t matter with Beel next to you, who was radiating warmth. He was wearing just his normal jacket with the fur trimmed hood - no boots or gloves or anything.

“You really should bundle up,” you mention, looking at his painted fingers. His hands were  _ huge _ . “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“I’ll be fine,” he says solemnly. 

He’d been right about the sled - it was big enough for you both to sit on it, but you had to get close between his thighs, your back pressed against his chest. It was like a slab of warm marble against you, and with his arms around you holding the reins, you didn’t give a damn about the other demons there, who thought you were a snack in the literal sense. Beel rests his chin on your shoulder and heat rushes to your face when he whispers, warm air tickling the side of your face. 

“Are you ready?” he asks, the hint of a smile on his face. 

The pristine snow ahead of you is a steep slope - much more perfect than anything in the human realm that you’d seen. “I’m ready,” you tell him, straightening up. 

With a quick spell muttered from Beel, some cosmic force gave you two a nudge and down the slope you went. It was slow at first but then the two of you picked up speed, going faster and faster. Your heartbeat accelerates and despite the sting in your eyes, a smile creeps up your features. Beel starts to laugh - more of a giggle at first as he tries to steer with the reins, keeping a tight hold on you. But then it evolves into a full-bellied laugh and whooping, infecting you. Your laughter is carried away up the mountain as you head down. 

“Snow bank!” You yelp, and despite Beel’s best attempt to slow down or skid to a stop, the sled simply turns sideways and the two of you plunge into the fluffy snow. Your world goes completely white for a moment as you’re buried, stunned into silence. You blink and try to figure out which way is up or down.

Beel finds you first, his arms wrapping around you and he lifts you out of the snow like it's nothing. Adrenaline is still coursing through you, and you stare at his blushing face as he smiles. You feel like a doofus with how much teeth you’re showing him, forgetting for a moment to be shy. “You have snowflakes in your eyelashes,” he rumbles.

You’re sure your heart is going to leap out of your chest and splatter all over his face, it’s beating so hard. He reaches his hand up and brushes snow out of your hair with a smile. “There, all better,” he says. “Do you want to go again?”

You spend hours with Beel, sledding down the hill and eventually trying out tubing too. By the time you’re done, every bone in your body is sore and your face is flushed. Beel carries you up to the lodge and despite being a little embarrassed, you’re also grateful. Until he sneezes. “You better not get sick,” you say jokingly.

Beel got sick.

In the morning you balance a giant tray of breakfast food to bring to him, figuring he was exhausted. You could always hang out in the lodge drinking hot chocolate if he wasn’t up to more activity. It wasn’t like you had the demon stamina to keep going 24/7, unlike Mammon who was already chatting up some of the witches that were staying there.

As you figured out the best way to keep several stacks of pancakes balanced, you call out from the other side of his door. “Hey Beel?” you ask. “I brought you some breakfast.”

There’s the distinct sound of a bed creaking and a large body shuffling around. When he answers the door, the first thing you notice is the slope of his shoulders. In the jersey pajama top he’s wearing, it’s easy to see and the wide neckline reveals sharp angles of his collarbones and solid traps. More like the Avatar of Being Totally Jacked. But the slightly hunched shoulders lead to his bright orange hair. Normally it was fluffy but instead it looked damp and plastered to his forehead, purplish bruises under his eyes only making them stand out more.

“You look like hell,” you say. “I mean. Well. The idea of it, not the Devildom. Are you okay Beel?”

He answers first with a sneeze, and then he sniffs and answers. His voice sounds plugged up. “Are you being sarcastic?”

“Actually no,” you tell him. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he says. 

You frown and offer him the pancakes. He takes them but instead of immediately inhaling them, he kind of pokes around at them. Your eyebrows shoot up in alarm - he definitely wasn’t feeling well. “I’m going to get you some water,” you say, eyebrows furrowing together. “I didn’t even know demons could get sick.”

“Alright,” he mutters, sitting on his bed and flopping down with an unceremonious  _ thud _ . He was reminding you a bit more of Belphie than you cared for. But still, you dutifully go back to the concessions and get a carafe of water with a glass. 

Back in his room, you drop off the water and he insists you go have fun sledding some more, or skiing. So you finally give in and go outside where Satan is waiting for you. He hands you a pair of skis almost as tall as you and proceeds to teach you the french fry and pizza style for going and stopping on the bunny slopes. Although he’s not much better himself, the few hours pass by and you’re already tired. You figure that Beel could use more food and grab the largest bowl of soup you’ve ever seen.

The liquid sloshes dangerously close to the edge as you tiptoe to the room. Where Beel is face down on the bed, his arm hanging off the side, almost touching the floor. 

“Beel?” You ask, turning on the light.

You hear a muffled groan and then Beel’s head peeking up from the pillows. “Oh hey, shortcake,” he says. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” you tell him, and carefully balance the bowl on the nightstand next to him. He scoots just enough so you can sit on the edge, looking at his tired eyes. “You need to eat a bit okay?” you tell him, worrying. What kind of germ could take Beelzebub, the Avatar of Gluttony, down? If you got it, would you maybe die? Who knows. You decide that was a train of thought best left at the station.

“Demons don’t get sick often,” he says, as if reading your mind. He looks at you and good lord, he’s  _ pouting _ . “What do humans do when you’re sick?”

You point over at the soup. “You eat soup and sleep.” You tap a finger on your chin and give a quick shrug. “Sometimes watch movies or something.”

He perks up a little bit. “What kind of movies?” A pause. “Do you want to watch with me?” 

His pretty violet eyes are so hopeful you know you never stood a chance. It’s only a moment later when you set up a laptop and your back is against Beel’s chest. He’s even warmer than usual, as whatever bug he has moves through him. If his legs on your side were distracting before, having an arm over your side pulling you close made it impossible to focus on anything.

“Beel I can’t see the movie,” you tell him when he proceeds to snuggle you closer. 

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, his voice thick and drowsy. Not that he _sounded_ particularly sorry.

“I don’t really mind,” you say as your cheeks flush with heat. The only response after is a soft snore. 

He spends the rest of the night holding you close, going between being too hot and too cold, and asking you in a pathetic voice for more water or food. You eventually fall asleep in his arms, content and smiling.

* * *

In the morning you’re covered in sweat and unsure who it belongs to. The space next to you on the bed is empty and cool to the touch. “Beel?” You call out, sitting up. 

After going back to your room and cleaning up, you try to figure out your plans for the day. Before you can decide, there’s a knock on the door. 

“Shortcake?” comes a soft voice and your heart starts beating faster. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

You didn’t think Beel would be up and moving already, and when you open the door you see that not only is he upright, but his hair is back to its normal fluffy self, ready for your fingers to run through it. Bright eyed, with a shy smile, and holding two coffee cups.

“I brought you hot chocolate,” he says, looking pleased with himself.

“Are you okay?” you ask suspiciously, taking the cup from him and sniffing. Definitely hot chocolate, maybe with a bit of spice in it. 

“We heal fast,” he shrugs off. “But I don’t think I can sled today. Do you think we could do something else?” A blush covers his cheeks, completely at odds with his height and power. It makes you melt even more. “I was thinking maybe the hot tub?”

You grin up at him. “Let me get my swimsuit.”

After putting on a pair of swim shorts and a tank top, you find Beel waiting outside and hold an oversized blanket around your shoulders so people won’t see you. And how could they when a literal behemoth of a man was beside you, filling up every room with his warmth?

The hot tub was outside, steam rising into the crisp air. When you go to put your towel down Beel takes off his shirt and you nearly slip on a patch of ice, you’re so startled. It was like God themselves had carefully crafted every plane of his stomach, each muscle and crease on his body with careful hands. Knowing what a kind person he was only made it worse. You’re blushing furiously by the time he hops into the tub and you follow suit, sinking down until your chin touches the water. 

You settle in across the hot tub from him and Beel looks at you in confusion, and immediately wades over to your side, putting an arm around your back lightly. “Is this okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, and lean your head against his shoulder. It’s quiet and serene - there’s a light snowfall and your breath comes out in clouds to mingle with the steam. It gives you an opportunity to focus on Beel and the way he sticks his tongue out to catch snowflakes on his tongue. You’ve never been more jealous of ice particles. 

“Are you trying to eat the snow?” You ask him.

“... Maybe,” he says reluctantly, looking down. “It looks like ice cream.”

“Ice cream is delicious,” you agree.

Beel looks over at you, with purple puppy-dog eyes and your heart drops right down to your stomach. “Not as delicious as you shortcake,” he says softly.

You fixate on his lips and the air seems heavy as you inch closer. So close the warmth from both of you mingles together, fighting against the cold air. 

“Ay!” You hear, followed by your name. “You got room for three more?” Mammon appears in ridiculously small swim trunks and two witches of indeterminate gender on his side, his arms around their shoulders. “How ya doin’?”

He leaps over the edge into the water, the witches giggling and sitting on the edge. Beel glares at them. “Leave right now or I’m going to eat your fingers and then your brain, but I’m worried you don’t have enough,” he grumbles. Your eyes widen in surprise.

Mammon mutters something about little brothers before hightailing it out of there. “You didn’t have to do that,” you tell Beel, but you’re cut short.

His lips connect with yours and it’s soft and gentle. You can tell he’s asking for permission, and you give it when you raise your hand to wrap it around his neck. Looking at him you would think he’d be demanding and rough, but instead he lets you set the tone and pace, exploratory and earnest. You completely forget the interruption and focus on him and the way he makes you feel.


End file.
